


Perfect Your Craft

by catatonic1242



Series: Inspired By Their Curiosity [1]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dry Humping, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Polyamory, Slash, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 12:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14976932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catatonic1242/pseuds/catatonic1242
Summary: Jensen isn't sure what to think when Misha joins the cast ofSupernatural.  Who is this weird guy doing the strange voice and looking at him likethat?Cockles:  An Origin Story.





	Perfect Your Craft

**Author's Note:**

> _“Just for the record, the way to a man's heart isn't through his stomach, but through the best fucking blow job ever. You want a man to be your bitch? Perfect your craft.”_ \- Devon Ashley
> 
> Written for [SPN Kink Bingo.](http://spnkinkbingo.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I owe a huge debt of gratitude to [dimples-of-discontent](https://dimples-of-discontent.tumblr.com/) for putting some very inspiring Cockles prompts out there and then for being an amazing beta for this work. I've been thinking about these two idiots for a long time, but she made me brave enough to write it. 
> 
> Find me on [tumblr.](http://catatonic1242.tumblr.com/)

_July 8, 2008_

“It was…weird.” Jensen isn’t sure what other word to use to describe the day he had. ‘Strange,’ maybe. ‘Off putting’ would be close. But ‘weird’ seems to cover it best.

“Why?” Danneel asks. She sounds a little distracted over the phone, but Jensen can’t say he blames her. He’s spent the last week or so talking her ear off about this new angel storyline they’re doing. Despite Eric’s reassurances that it was part of his five-year plan, Jensen’s not sure - it feels kind of shoehorned, a little slapdash. And it’s not just the storyline that feels off.

“This guy, Misha, he’s making some, I guess I’d say they’re weird choices,” Jensen explains. “He’s doing this weird thing with his voice, like, ‘Hi, I’m Misha,’” he imitates in a squeaky, schoolgirl voice, “And then ‘I’m an angel of the lord, Dean, I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition,’” he finishes, dramatically pitching his voice down two octaves. “And he keeps looking at me during his coverage…”

“Is he not supposed to look at you?” Danneel prompts when Jensen trails off.

“Well, yeah, but I mean, it’s weird.” Again, not as eloquent as he would maybe like, but it fits. “He looks at me like Dean _belongs_ to him. Or Castiel. Whatever.” Whatever this Misha character is doing, it throws him off his game. Makes him feel a little unsteady on his feet, in the scene. He hates that, because if there’s one thing Jensen knows, it’s Dean. 

“Okay,” Danneel responds, her tone of voice neutral. “Is it bad? Bad acting?”

“No,” Jensen answers quickly. “No, it’s not bad, I guess… but the guy doesn’t talk a lot, either.” As soon as he says it, he feels like an ass. He’s shy by nature himself - it was only Jared’s eager-puppy personality that got him to open up during those first weeks. But still, Jensen thought he’d been friendly enough when he introduced himself to the new guy during the rehearsal, but all he really got back was a quick introduction. No joking, nothing else.

“Jens, it’s not easy to come onto a set where everyone has known each other for three years already.”

“Yeah, I know,” he’s starting to whine a little bit now, annoyed with himself for not being able to pinpoint what, exactly, is bothering him so much. And, if he’s honest, annoyed that he’s being irrational. “But what the hell kind of name is ‘Misha’?”

Danneel giggles, and it makes him smile. Makes him feel at ease, finally, after a day spent on edge. “ _Jensen_ ,” she says pointedly, “you just asked _Danneel_ that question.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and exhales. “Yeah, I know,” he answers. She makes sense, as always. 

“Look, he may be ‘ _weird_.’ So what? It’s not like he’s gonna be around forever. Just be nice - what’s the worst that could happen?” Danneel asks.

*****

_July 15, 2008_

“He’s doing that _thing_ again,” Jensen says, stomping into Jared’s trailer without preamble. He’s pissed, and he should knock, given that he could (and has, god knows) walk smack into the middle of who-knows-what happening in the trailer, but he desperately needs to vent.

Thankfully, Jared is just sitting in front of the TV playing a video game, and he doesn’t look up when Jensen stalks over to him. “Huh?” he says absently.

“Dude, Misha, he’s doing that _thing_ ,” Jensen answers, placing himself between Jared and the television, blocking the view. He needs Jared’s full attention.

“Man, come on!” Jared exclaims as sad music drones out of the TV. “You just killed me!”

“Okay, so, you’re free to talk,” Jensen supplies sarcastically.

Jared tosses aside the game controller. “Yeah, sure, you have my undivided attention, jackass.”

“He’s doing that _thing_ ,” Jensen repeats. He knows, had Jared heard him the first two times, that he knows exactly what that _thing_ is. It’s the only _thing_ he’s been able to talk about for the last week.

“That thing where he eyefucks you?” Jared asks, smirking and leaning back against the couch. 

“Where he eyefucks _Dean_ ,” Jensen corrects. “Yeah. I can’t even look at him during this scene, and it’s only rehearsal.”

“Man, you have lost your chill. I have never seen you get this rattled before.”

Jensen runs a hand over his mouth, then scratches absently at his chin. “Yeah, because he’s gonna ruin the scene. This angel stuff, I’m still not sure about it, and this guy…” When he runs out of words, Jensen flops down onto the couch next to Jared and tilts his head back, closing his eyes. This Misha guy is gonna ruin the scene, gonna screw up Jensen’s reaction shots… He already makes Jensen feel awkward inside his own skin, just by the way he looks at him. That’s not something Jensen enjoys, and it’s certainly not how he plays Dean. Dean doesn’t back down, not the way Misha makes him. Makes Dean. The way Castiel makes Dean. God, it’s even got Jensen twisting it up in his own head.

“Leave it to Phil,” Jared suggests. “He knows what he’s doing. He’ll pull this guy back if it’s really getting as stupid as you say.”

“It just… he _bugs_ me,” Jensen confesses, eyes still closed. He can’t put it into words, and it frustrates him. 

He doesn’t see when Jared rolls his eyes. “Clearly,” he states. “But why, though? You guys have one scene this episode.”

Jensen sits up, shakes his head and lowers his voice. “’You should show me some respect,’” he imitates. “All up in my face. We might as well just have this dude pee on Dean’s leg,” he mutters. “He’s playing it like he owns me,” Jensen confesses. “He’s driving me crazy.”

*****

_August 22, 2008_

“Okay, I have to tell you, I don’t see it,” Jared says.

They’re walking beside each other from Stage 1 to Stage 3, and as they pass the craft services truck, Jared ducks under its awning to grab a piece of licorice, then keeps walking. He takes a bite, and with his mouth full continues, “He’s pretty normal. A little quiet, maybe.”

Jensen scoffs, annoyed. “Yeah, but you’re so loud, everyone else is quiet by comparison.”

Jared cuffs him on the arm. “No, I’m serious. I didn’t know what to expect from a scene with him, considering you complained about it so much, but really, he’s just a dude.”

Jensen fixes him with a look. It says, ‘you have GOT to be kidding me with this right now.’ And Jared can read it like a book.

“Okay,” Jared concedes, “a dude doing a weird voice, but still, I’m telling you, I don’t see it.”

“That’s because he’s only doing it to _me_. Or, to Dean, I mean,” Jensen supplies. “He’s only looking at me - dammit! at _Dean_ \- that way.”

“Are you sure you’re not just seeing things?”

Jensen stops walking. Jared continues a few feet before he realizes Jensen’s not with him anymore and turns back.

“‘Seeing things?’” Jensen asks incredulously. No, he’s not seeing things, his own brain insists. It’s right there for _anyone_ to see. 

Jared shoves the rest of the candy in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. “Look, why don’t you spend some time with him? You know, talk to him? Maybe just ask if there’s something up?”

Jensen rolls his eyes and starts walking again. “Don’t be rational,” he mutters, softly enough that Jared can pretend he didn’t hear.

*****

_August 23, 2008_

He’s nervous. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous. He can’t actually remember the last time talking to Danneel made him anxious; things in their relationship have been smooth for as long as he can remember. She supports him. She’s got his back. But there’s some kind of unfamiliar niggling in his belly, so he blurts out the rest of the story as quickly as he can. “Yeah, so, whatever, I asked him to dinner,” Jensen says into the phone.

“Good!” Danneel exclaims over the line. “I’m glad. I’m proud of you.”

“He said no, Dee,” Jensen sighs, running his free hand through his hair.

Danneel makes a small, indignant noise. Jensen can pretty much picture the look on her face - pinched mouth and furrowed brow, the same face she makes when anyone insults him. It’s cute, and remembering it makes him grin. “What? Why?” she asks.

“Well, I mean, he said he wasn’t sure when he’d have the time. He’s not in the next episode, and they haven’t given him a schedule after that.”

“Okay, so that’s not ‘no,’” Danneel counters. 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not ‘no,’” Jensen concedes, then continues, “but it might as well have been. You should have seen it, when I asked. His eyes got real big. He doesn’t want to.”

“Is there a possibility,” Danneel asks delicately, “that you are being a little dramatic?”

Jensen’s first reaction is to scoff and deny the accusation. But, he realizes, she maybe has a point. “Well,” he admits, “I am an actor. ‘Dramatic’ is kind of my job.”

“So maybe just ask him the next time he’s in town for a while,” Danneel offers. “And stop being a drama queen.”

Jensen chuckles. “You know, I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

“Well, yeah,” she teases. “Because I make you a better person.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let being right go to your head,” Jensen answers, somewhat relieved at the change of topic. 

But apparently, Danneel isn’t finished. “Oh!” she exclaims. “I meant to tell you - you’ve been talking about him so much, I looked him up. Did you know Misha’s wife wrote a book about threesomes?”

Jensen nearly chokes. He covers by faking a laugh, then answers truthfully, “I didn’t know he was married.”

“Well, there you go!” Danneel exclaims. “I bought a copy. So you’ll have something to talk about when you have dinner.”

*****

_October 21, 2008_

He’s not ready to have dinner. He’s so not ready that he hasn’t even brought it up again. Hell, he hasn’t even made eye contact, much less talked to Misha outside of filming. Jensen is kind of hoping the whole question will just fade into the background and be forgotten. 

And then there’s the book. He’s put it off for a good month after Danneel has given it to him, leaving it, wrapped in a nondescript paper bag like some kind of embarrassing pornography, in the back of a cabinet in his trailer. Unfortunately, every time he walks in, the damn thing calls to him. He casts his eyes over at the cabinet, then looks away, then back again, over and over and over like it’s some kind of game. As if by avoiding it, he can pretend it didn’t exist.

Obviously, that isn’t working. 

They spend the early afternoon blocking a fight scene, one where Dean saves Cas from Alastair. Misha was obnoxiously easy to work with. He took all of the suggestions, allowing John to move him around the set with ease, never missing a step. 

It was Jensen who was a mess. He was distracted, trying to act casual while studiously avoiding Misha’s gaze, and he missed a swing with the tire iron and almost cracked Mark’s head open. It wasn’t like him, so much that Jared pulled him aside.

“Dude, are you okay?” he asks, a supportive hand on Jensen’s shoulder.

Jensen shrugs it off. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he insists. “I’m good.”

What he really wants to do was take the tire iron to Misha. The guy is infuriating, and Jensen is about 20 minutes from losing his cool.

Luckily, they finish the rehearsal about 15 minutes later, and when John calls for a break to reset, Jensen bursts into his trailer, flings the cabinet open and pulls the damn thing out.

And he reads. 

Time fades into the background as he does, and soon enough he finds himself wrapped up in Misha and this mysterious Vicki and diamonds and trips to Europe. He finds himself wondering how they do it, _why_ they do it, and how this seemingly mild-mannered, intensely quiet guy handles two women at the same time.

It’s fucking hot. Jensen can admit that. 

He can picture it: Misha in the middle of a large bed, flanked by two beautiful women. All of them naked, Misha’s tanned skin glistening with sweat. They would be trading wet, open-mouthed kisses between the three of them. Misha would sometimes watch, sometimes participate, always eager. There would be hands everywhere, three pairs exploring, stroking, rubbing. Jensen can imagine what Misha sounds like when he’s thrusting - whether it’s into a hand, a mouth or a cunt. 

He snaps out of it when there’s a knock on his trailer door. Jensen slams the book closed, tucking it quickly underneath a couch cushion before shouting, “Yeah?” His voice is pitched a little higher than usual, and he clears his throat as the door opens.

“They’re ready for you,” James says, peeking his head in.

Jensen looks down at his crotch and rolls his eyes. He presses a palm down, trying to calm his excited dick. 

Yeah, he’s so not ready.

*****

_December 15, 2008_

“It was… weird.”

“Sweetheart,” Danneel says, “you really need to come up with a different word.”

Jensen knows he does. Because it wasn’t really ‘weird.’ Interesting. Fascinating. Bizarre, even. Those would all be better ways to describe the dinner he’s just had with Misha. “We ate _brains_ ,” he says instead.

“You did not,” Danneel laughs.

“There was a goat heart!” he adds. “A literal goat heart. They brought it out to the table and it _looked_ like an actual _heart_.” 

He can so clearly remember the look on Misha’s face when the plates of food came out. Sweetbreads, brains, the goat heart… And Misha just sitting there, placid smile on his face, waiting for the plates to be placed and the wine to be refilled before inviting Jensen to dig in. Like they were bros bellying up to hamburgers instead of the three least-ordered items on the menu of that dimly-lit restaurant in Gastown. 

“Okay, that’s gross,” Danneel grants.

“Right?” Jensen agrees, throwing up his hand even though she can’t see him. “A heart! On a plate!”

Danneel asks the obvious question. “What did it taste like?”

“Grainy and chewy,” Jensen answers. He remembers that, too, unfortunately. Remembers Misha cutting a chunk for himself, pulling it onto his plate along with a heaping scoop of brain curry and three large pieces of sweetbreads. Then he’d pushed the plate across to Jensen, an almost shy smile on his face. 

Jensen had felt challenged, his back up. The quiet little dude with the actual, _real-life_ polyamory (who the hell actually manages to make that work in the real world?) and the job at the White House (yeah, he’d done more reading, whatever) wasn’t going to best him at food. So he took a bigger chunk of the heart than Misha had, plus two scoops of the curry and four sweetbreads. 

Sitting on his plate, the food didn’t seem so intimidating. He could almost pretend the heart was just a bit of roast. Jensen picked up his knife and fork and cut a bite-sized piece. He slugged back a mouthful of wine before bringing the fork to his mouth and taking the bite. It was medium rare, a bit bloody, and it chewed like steak. But that didn’t change the fact that he knew it wasn’t steak. He choked it down and chased it with another swig of wine.

When he’d looked up, Misha was scooping a forkful of brain curry into his mouth. He made eye contact with Jensen and smiled. Jensen wasn’t sure if he was imagining the twinkle in Misha’s eye, but there seemed to be something mischievous there - almost taunting him. So he’d made it a point to match Misha toe-to-toe, bite-for-bite, staring him right down from across the table as he did. Before he knew it, his plate was clean.

Danneel’s voice interrupts his memories. “So, aside from the food, what did you talk about?”

Jensen thinks back. He remembers Misha holding the door for him when they walked into the restaurant. He remembers their booth, tucked off to the side, away from the majority of the other patrons. He also remembers staring blankly at the wine list, wondering whether he could just order a beer. He remembers every bite of the food that he ate, remembers every look on Misha’s face as he chewed.

But he has absolutely no idea what they talked about. 

“I have no idea,” he answers honestly. “Nothing important.”

“So you didn’t ask him about the book?” Danneel teases. 

Jensen’s eyes go wide. He’s honestly not sure.

*****

_January 16, 2009_

The reviews aren’t good. He’d known they wouldn’t be, really. It’s not like anyone remakes an obscure Canadian horror movie from the ‘80s in the hopes of winning an Oscar. But he’d at least been hoping that he would get some positive mentions. Instead, it’s all about how cool the tech is and too bad it was wasted on a retread story and, hey, that pretty kid from _Smallville_ is in it, too.

It sucks.

So he’s having a shit day. But at least Dean’s also having a shit day, so it’s not like he has to play happy. He gets to wallow around in a hospital bed all day. 

Unfortunately, he has to do it with Misha sitting right next to him. And that’s exactly what he’s doing. Just… sitting. There’s no talking, no idle chatter. Misha’s brought a book, instead, and he’s just sitting there between takes, reading. He seems to be laboring under the delusion that the silence between them is comfortable. 

Jensen is just about as far from comfortable as he can get. It’s infuriating. He feels like he’s about to crawl out of his own skin just being near him, but it’s not like he can get up - he’s tethered to the bed by fake monitors and an oxygen tube. He could ask for a break, but… he can’t stop looking over at Misha, sneaking peeks out of the corner of his eye. Jensen is annoyed by how completely still the guy is - he doesn’t fidget, doesn’t tap his fingers, doesn’t even cross or uncross his legs. The only movement he makes is to noiselessly turn a page every couple of minutes. 

Jensen’s on pins and needles. And the scene isn’t helping - it’s heavy stuff, what they’re doing. Not to mention the fact that every time he delivers his, “I’m not strong enough line,” Misha does that _thing_. 

It’s intense. The scene, the way Jensen feels, the way Misha is looking at - the way _Cas_ is looking at _Dean_. It’s a little like being naked - he feels exposed. He feels _seen_. 

It makes him want to bubble up, babble, say everything that’s on his mind and some things that aren’t. He wants to fill the silences, admit everything he’s feeling, cop to it all. He only manages to stay quiet, to stay in the scene, by digging the nail of his thumb into the palm of his hand. 

By the end of the day, he’s a frayed wire, two seconds away from shorting out.

He’s just about to lose it when finally, _finally_ , they wrap. Jensen is up and out of the bed the second Mike confirms they’re done, dragging the fake monitor cords behind him until James runs after him to remove them. 

*****

_February 9, 2009_

“Holy shit!” Danneel exclaims. “Can Misha _really_ bend that way?”

Misha’s on the television, bent over himself. His head is upside down and his feet are on the floor in front of him, his ass straight up in the air. Jensen’s got his head tilted, watching, practically transfixed as the scene unfolds. “How the hell would I know?” he asks, distracted. “It’s not like dudes just sit around talking about whether or not they can suck their own dicks.” He watches as the shot changes to use Misha’s ass to frame the other two actors. Jensen’s cock twitches a little in his pants.

Danneel smacks him lightly on the shoulder. “No, but when you talked to him about this, it didn’t… come up?” she snickers.

He’s not sure if his dick is relieved or disappointed when the scene changes entirely. Jensen finally looks up at her, processing the joke. “Seriously?” he asks. She laughs and shrugs, but doesn’t say anything, so he continues, “I didn’t talk to him about it. Jared told me he was in this episode.”

Just then, his phone rings. He glances at the caller ID before answering it on speaker. “Hey, man - don’t you have a movie premiere to be at?”

“No one stays for the movie,” Jared explains. “Are you watching it? Did you just… did he just…?” Jared exclaims through the other end. It sets Danneel off again, and she dissolves into a fit of giggles on Jensen’s arm.

“Yeah, he did,” Jensen answers. He’s pretty sure he did. Sure, they could have used a stunt ass for that second shot, but that yoga pose, that was definitely Misha. 

Jared guffaws. “Can he really bend that way?”

Jensen makes a face. “Why the hell does everyone keep asking me that?” 

“You’re the one he talks to,” Jared explains, as if it’s still obvious. He’s still snickering, too, which annoys Jensen. He’s not sure what exactly Jared is laughing at - Misha, the yoga pose, him, there are a lot of options. Most of them kind of piss Jensen off. Actually, all of them kind of piss him off, even the Misha option.

“I don’t talk to him,” Jensen protests, more strenuously than he needs to.

That takes Jared aback, and he finally stops laughing. “But, he talks about you,” he says. “Like, all the time. I can’t get him to shut up about you. It’s always Jensen this, Jensen that, JensenJensenJensen.”

Jensen’s confused. Misha talks about _him_? Why? What does he say? What could he have to say? The dinner conversation he can’t remember aside, Jensen’s fairly certain he’s exchanged no more than 50 non-scripted words with Misha. “What?”

“Dude, since you went to dinner, it’s been non-stop.”

Danneel’s been hanging over his shoulder, and before he can dissect what Jared just said, she smacks him again. “See, I told you he doesn’t hate you.”

“I didn’t say he hated me,” Jensen protests. He’d maybe said the guy didn’t like him. Hell, it felt like Misha didn’t seem to want to get to know him at all. There was the brain-eating contest, the silent reading, that _thing_ , everything that’s been piling up for months. All of it added up to disinterest at best and disgust at worst.

“He definitely doesn’t hate you,” Jared chimes in. 

Jensen sighs. He can tell Jared’s trying to be helpful - he knows the difference between his joking voice and his reassuring one. He’s being sincere. It’s decidedly unhelpful. “Okay, both of you, that’ll do.”

The other end of the line is quiet for a quick moment, and then Jared speaks up again. “No, but seriously, you have to ask him if he can really do that,” he insists. 

Jensen makes a strangled, frustrated noise and almost throws the phone across the room. “I really don’t need to know!” he yells.

“I do,” Danneel says pointedly. That stops Jensen in his tracks. He turns to give her a look, and she explains, “Hey, I read the book, too. I need to know if Mr. Threesome can also have a Onesome.”

“Oh my GOD,” Jensen cringes, leaning forward to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“Hey,” Jared interrupts. “Can _you_ bend that way?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

*****

_March 10, 2009_

Jensen’s had a hell of a day. Not in a bad way, not at all. Watching Misha, filming with him as Jimmy, it was an education. He’d actually blown a couple of his own lines while he was distracted, engrossed in what Misha was doing. The character was so different from Castiel, so different from Misha, that Jensen had been completely taken aback. As Cas, Misha hadn’t had an opportunity to let emotion flow near the surface, but as Jimmy… the guy was one big ball of humanity, and Misha straight up became him during the scenes. But he was able to turn it off like _that_ \- one second, he was Jimmy, the next he was Misha, joking around and throwing rocks with Jared. They’d even broken a window, dissolved into hysterical laughter, and then Misha had been right back on point not three minutes later.

“You should have seen it, Dee. It was like - I don’t know how to describe it,” he tells Danneel over the phone after they’ve wrapped for the day. The last scene they shot that evening was in a warehouse, and Jensen had watched Misha go from being himself to a wounded Jimmy to fresh new Castiel and back to being himself like it was nothing at all.

Jensen can hear Danneel’s smile over the line. “It was good?” she asks.

“I couldn’t even see Cas in him,” he says. He’d been watching, studying, waiting (but not hoping) for a slip. He figured it was inevitable - you work with the same people, playing the same character, for long enough that it becomes like muscle memory. So he’d waited for Misha to slip casually into Cas’ deep voice, his lack of mannerisms. But as Jimmy, Misha didn’t do any of that - he didn’t even do that _thing_. Which, Jensen had to admit, was… off-putting. He’d become kind of accustomed to that _thing_. Suddenly to be face-to-face with Misha and not have it was weird. “It was like he flipped a switch and totally became someone else. Even his face changed.”

“Really?” Danneel sounds pleased, and it opens Jensen up even more.

“It was… awesome,” he admits, channelling his inner Dean. There’s really not another word for how he felt. “It was like playing against someone totally different. The guy’s kind of genius.”

“Sounds like you had a good day,” she supplies.

He remembers laughing with Jared and Misha, how easy and comfortable it had been. Even when Jared was taking the piss out of Misha, it was good - the guy was good-natured, and he took it in stride. And Jensen remembers getting a few jabs in of his own, mostly just because he liked the way Misha smiled and wanted to see it again. Jensen had even taken most of the fall for the broken window, even though it hadn’t been his rock that went through the plate glass. “Yeah, we really did.”

“Good,” Danneel says, and Jensen knows she means it. He can hear her smile widening, even. “I’m so glad.”

“I mean, really, he was unrecognizable,” he answers. “It was so cool - and then to watch him switch back, from Jimmy to Cas, man…” Jensen trails off, a small smile on his face. It was one of the best days he’s had on set in a while, since Kim died, probably. He’s genuinely happy.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Danneel says lightly, “I’d say you have a little bit of a crush.”

It takes Jensen a minute to process that. A crush? On _Misha_? “Come on. I’m thirty-one,” he reminds her. “I don’t _crush_. Oh, and also, I have _you_.” What he feels about Misha is admiration, a blossoming brotherhood maybe, something shared in the experience but totally separate from what he has with Jared. Which is also totally different from what he has with Danneel.

“A man crush, babe,” Danneel laughs, “a totally platonic man crush.”

Jensen considers that, actually does really think about it in a way he wouldn’t if anyone else suggested it. The best reply he can come up with is a tender, “Shut up.”

*****

_April 7, 2009_

“That was one hell of a party,” Jared says, struggling with his key. He drops it, throws up his hands and then bends over to retrieve it. The dogs are barking impatiently behind the door.

Jensen laughs. It had kind of been the wrap party to end all wrap parties. They’re in the middle of filming the season finale and it’s the last day everyone is going to be in town before they go their separate ways for the summer.

“Yeah, man, it was,” he confirms. He’s especially good with a healthy beer buzz. 

Jared’s still drunkenly wrestling with the door, until finally the deadbolt clicks and he smiles, wide and giddy, at Jensen. 

As soon as they’re in the living room, Jared collapses onto the couch. Jensen walks into the kitchen, opens the back door and ushers the dogs out into the fenced yard. Then he grabs himself a small bottle of juice and a water for Jared out of the fridge. Back in the living room, he cracks the top of the water bottle and hands it to Jared. 

“Here, drink,” he prompts.

Jared grabs the bottle and chugs down half of it at once. “Thanks. That was one hell of a party,” he repeats. 

“Yeah, you said that, bud,” Jensen chuckles, flopping down next to him on the couch. 

“Did you see Misha?” Jared asks. He’s slurring his words just a bit, drunker than Jensen but still pleasant. His cheeks are flushed, and Jensen knows from experience that he’ll only be awake five more minutes at most.

Yeah, he’d seen Misha. Of course he’d seen Misha. He’d pretty much been attached at the hip to Misha the whole night. Whether that was Misha’s doing or his own, he wasn’t sure. At alternating points, Jensen had felt like both the sun, with Misha revolving around him, and like a satellite, caught in Misha’s orbit.

He wasn’t sure whether Misha had matched him on the drinking - every time Jensen turned around, Misha had a drink in his hand, but he wasn’t sure whether it was the same drink that Misha was nursing or not. It was entirely possible that Misha was stone-cold sober, though Jensen’s not sure how he feels about that. If Misha was sober, then the gentle, lingering touches on Jensen’s elbow, shoulder and back probably meant…

Well, he didn’t know, exactly. For himself, every time his hand was empty, he found another beer being pushed into it, which explained exactly why he found himself leaning into those touches. Definitely the beers.

He’s definitely buzzed.

Which is also probably why he doesn’t remember much of the conversations from that night. There were a lot of people there; cast and crew, even some folks from the network, everyone came out to celebrate. Jensen remembers smiling a lot. Smiling at everyone who crossed his path, people he wasn’t even sure he knew. And smiling a lot at Misha, and Misha smiling back at him, that smile Jensen has decided he really, _really_ likes seeing.

Okay, so maybe he passed buzzed an hour ago. 

The dogs are barking at the back door, so Jensen gets up and lets them in. They barely stop to acknowledge him before hauling ass back down the hall to Jared’s room. Jared’s slumped a bit on the couch, lolling his head back and forth and sipping at the rest of his water bottle. He toes out of his shoes. Jensen reaches a hand out to help Jared up, but Jared ignores it.

“He’s fun,” Jared says. He grins crookedly at Jensen, then adds, “You’re fun!”

“Yeah, yeah. Time for bed, princess.”

“You’re no fun,” Jared quickly amends, but he rocks back and forth a couple of times before letting Jensen help him to his feet. As he’s leaving the room, he stops in the doorway. “Y’all had fun,” he adds.

“Yeah, everyone had fun,” Jensen says accommodatingly. 

“No, _y’all_ had fun,” Jared says, waggling his eyebrows. Before Jensen can respond, he’s turned and flounced away drunkenly.

Jensen sighs and turns off the lights as he makes his way down to his bedroom. Yeah, he’d had fun. They all had fun. He’d had fun with Misha. 

He’s actually not sure he’s looking forward to the break.

*****

_July 10, 2009_

“Okay, do you think you’re going a little too hard on him?” Jensen asks Jared.

They’re walking back to their trailers together, having just finished a scene with Misha and Jim. It was fun, having the whole gang back together after the hiatus, even if now Jim was stuck in that wheelchair and having some difficulties maneuvering it. But that’s not what Jensen is talking about.

“What are you talking about?” Jared responds.

Jensen scoffs. “You know what I’m talking about, man.” He’s talking about Misha, the way Jared had laid it on thick during his coverage of the scene. It was typical Jared, but Jensen’s never really seen it directed at Misha before. Never really watched Misha totally lose his shit in the middle of a scene and crack up laughing, totally breaking character. Jared just looks clueless, so Jensen makes a long series of farting noises at him. 

Now it’s Jared’s turn to look at Jensen in disbelief. “What, seriously?”

“I’m just saying…” he trails off, not totally sure why it bothers him enough to bring it up.

“Come on, I farted at him,” Jared defends himself, but it’s totally without heat. He just says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which is kind of is, given that it’s Jared. “That’s what I do,” he adds unnecessarily.

Jensen makes a face, because yeah, that’s what Jared does, and also, it’s gross, and additionally, “You never used to fart at him.” 

“I’ve farted at him before,” Jared protests, like he can’t believe they’re having this conversation.

“No, you haven’t,” Jensen responds. He also can’t believe they’re having this conversation.

“Well, I fart at him now,” Jared says, throwing up his hands. “Why is that such a big deal?”

And that’s when Jensen figures out why it bothers him so much, Jared picking on Misha. He’s not worried about Misha’s professionalism, his inability to stay in character when Jared farts at him. It bothers him when Misha smiles at Jared, because he’s not smiling at him. And that thought sets Jensen back on his heels. He shakes his head as if to shake the thought out, but it’s there, and it stays. Jared’s still staring at him, and Jensen realizes he’s expecting an answer. “It’s not,” he mutters. “Nevermind.”

*****

_July 27, 2009_

“He’s banged up pretty bad,” Jensen says into the phone. “He had a bike accident. Apparently, he crashed going like 55 miles per hour.”

“Oh my god,” Danneel exclaims. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Jensen chuckles humorlessly. “Well, it turns out he can’t bend that way anymore,” he supplies, a fact he just learned an hour ago.

She gasps, then guffaws. “He _could_ bend that way?!? I knew it!”

“Yeah,” Jensen brings the conversation back down to an appropriately somber tone, “they thought his back was broken.” He can picture it, what it would be like for Misha to be broken in that way, and it makes his stomach flip in a nauseating way. Misha, agile, mobile Misha, bound in a full body cast or confined to a wheelchair, it keeps flashing in Jensen’s head. Which probably explains why his temples are pounding. He puts the phone on speaker so he can put it down and rub at the sides of his skull.

“Wait, after the accident?” Danneel asks for clarification.

“Yeah. They gave him a CT scan because they thought it was broken.” Misha had described the whole experience, from the ambulance ride to the emergency room to the numerous scans he’d been through. It terrified Jensen, the entire thing, pretty much every aspect of it. Waiting like that to find out how badly you’re busted up. Hearing how badly _Misha_ could have been busted up. That Jensen could have lost someone else. He's never forgotten losing his best friend, watching it happen right in front of him. This reminds him of that in a way that churns his gut. Misha could have been gone, just gone.

“Man, that sucks,” Danneel says sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Jensen says again, sighing. “And when I went to throw my arm around him, he winced the first time.” It had taken him by complete surprise when, as they’d come down the stairs during their scene, Jensen had loosely put his arm around Cas’ shoulder and Misha had whimpered and ducked. He’d pulled his arm away immediately and practically fallen over himself apologizing. He’d assumed he’d done something wrong until Misha explained about the bike accident.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “You threw your arm around him?”

Jensen rushes to explain, “It was in the script.” He probably says it too fast, because it all comes out as one word.

“Oh, I thought…” she hesitates, then takes a deep breath before continuing. “Look, did you think any more about what we talked about?”

“Yeah,” Jensen rubs one hand down his face and exhales. “Yeah, I did.” He doesn’t need any clarification, knows exactly what she’s talking about. They’d talked about it a lot over the summer - Dee bringing it up, Jensen shooting it down, then Jensen skirting around it while Danneel tried to coax the words out of him.

“And?” She was still trying to coax the words out of him.

“Look, I don’t know, I just…” but they still wouldn’t quite come. He did know one thing. “I want you to be happy, you know.”

“Jens, I _am_ happy,” she responds immediately. “And you know I love you, and I know you love me. I want you to be happy.”

This isn’t new information for Jensen, though he always does appreciate hearing it. But his response is usually the same, so he falls back on his old standard. “You’re my priority. I’m happy, Dee.”

“Yeah, no, I know that, of course I know that,” Danneel concedes. They’ve had this exact conversation half a dozen times over the summer. Until she asks him something she never has before: “But could you be happier?”

*****

_August 6, 2009_

It’s been a rough day. 

It’s weird, shooting an episode where there are two yous. Well, two Deans. He’s done it before, a couple of seasons ago, but that was really just one scene. This is pretty much a whole episode of playing two different but very similar characters. It’s a challenge, finding the balance between who Dean is now and who Dean could become in five years. Plus, it’s tough from a production perspective - the blocking is more difficult, even with a stand-in, and he doesn’t get as much to play off of in the intense scenes. 

It’s tiring, more so than usual. Jensen usually has Jared to take the tension off, Jared to split the coverage with, Jared to grab someone by the balls or fart or crack some lewd joke to lighten the mood. But now _Jensen_ is both leads and all eyes are on him. 

Except when Misha is in the scene. When Misha’s in the scene, Jensen can relax. Misha is like a magnet - eyes are drawn to him, Jensen can see it in the rest of the cast and the crew. The second he steps onto set in something _other_ than Cas’ suit and trench coat it’s like the air is electrified. He’s been instructed to grow out his beard a little, and damn, the stubble suits him, as does the messy mop of hair on top of his head. Jensen himself couldn’t help but gawk when he first stepped on set in costume.

They’re in the truck now, filming Misha’s coverage. It’s the last shot on the schedule for the day, and Jensen can finally just relax and forget about playing Dean from 2014. 

As soon as they start rolling, he also forgets about playing Dean from 2009.

Every time Misha - Cas - laughs, and he does laugh a lot as this version of Cas, Jensen forgets his line. He’s doing a terrible job and he knows it. But he blames it on a lot of things - the laugh, the smiles… the fact that Misha has apparently switched to that bullshit crystal deodorant that does absolutely nothing so the whole cab of the vehicle smells musky and kind of wild, like something warm and feral. 

And then there’s Misha’s knee pressed up against his own in the cab of the truck.

At first, he thinks it’s a mistake, just the way they’re leaning to make the best use of the lighting. The cab of the truck is somewhat small, after all, and they have to sit just so to get the shot. But even when the camera angle changes and Misha has to cheat his head, his leg stays right where it is. Pressing against Jensen’s. It’s the only point of contact between their bodies and the only thing that Jensen can think about. The only thing aside from the little curl of hair behind Misha’s ear, the way his stubble reflects the light and silhouettes his jawline, his earthy smell, the pink of his lips...

Okay, so he can think of a few things. Including the effect that all of those things are having on his cock. He’s at half-mast inside his jeans and probably not doing a great job hiding it. 

Jensen’s not quite sure how he gets through the scene, so it’s something of a surprise that they’re done when Steve calls a wrap to the day. When Misha climbs out of the truck, Jensen follows behind him.

“Hey, man, I’m sorry,” he says, hustling to catch up. He falls in beside Misha as he walks toward his trailer. 

Misha looks at him, puzzled. “For what?” he asks.

“I was… I was distracted, I’m sorry, I wasn’t giving you much there, man.”

He doesn’t stop walking, but Misha does cast a look over at Jensen, and there’s something recognizable as Cas in the way he tilts his head. “I thought that was good,” he answers.

Jensen’s quick to respond, “No.” He falls silent for a second, then continues, “Yes, I mean, you were good, that’s not…” he fumbles for words, then starts again. “You were great. I was kind of a mess, though. I’m just sorry, you know, long day.”

They’re just a couple of feet from Misha’s trailer, but before they reach the stairs, Misha stops, one hand on the railing. He’s quiet for a moment, contemplating something Jensen can’t hope to understand, before he looks right at him and says, “I know. Do you want some coffee?” He gestures at his trailer.

Jensen nods. “Yeah, you know, I think I would.”

Misha takes the stairs first, walking inside and holding the door open for Jensen, who follows close behind him. He’s never been inside Misha’s trailer, wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it’s fairly normal - smaller than his own, but comfortable, with a couch, a television, some cabinets and a sink. Misha gestures for him to take a seat on the couch, which he does, while Misha walks over to a coffee pot on the counter.

Jensen watches him as he works, pouring coffee grounds into the top of the machine and then filling the carafe with water and dumping it in. Misha moves with purpose, a self-assuredness that isn’t cocky but familiar. He moves like a man who is comfortable in his own skin, Jensen thinks. When he’s got the machine all set up, Misha turns to him.

“How do you take it?” he asks.

Jensen blinks.

When he doesn’t open his mouth to answer, Misha tries again. “Your coffee? How do you take it?”

“Oh, oh, yeah,” Jensen answers, “Yeah, just a little milk, if you have it.”

“Sure,” Misha responds, pulling out a couple of mismatched mugs from the cabinet, a pint of milk from the small fridge and a spoon from a drawer. When everything is set out, he moves over to the couch and sits next to Jensen, waiting for the coffee to brew.

He’s not as close as he’d been in the truck, but Misha is still close enough that Jensen can feel the warmth radiating from him. The coffee pot begins to hiss quietly behind them.

“So, you were saying, long day?” Misha asks, leaning into the sofa and throwing an arm casually over the back. He’s angled his body toward Jensen, one leg crossed casually over his knee.

Jensen suddenly finds his mouth is dry. He swallows thickly and nods instead of speaking.

“Okay,” Misha says slowly. 

“Sorry, man, I think I’m just tired,” Jensen says. He finds he’s got to try a little too hard to keep himself from looking at Misha’s lips, so instead he closes his eyes and runs his hand down his own face.

Then he feels a warm but light touch on his knee. He opens his eyes and looks down - it’s Misha’s hand that has settled on his leg. He looks up at Misha’s face, and the openness he sees there surprises him. Misha takes a slow breath, then says carefully, “So, Danneel talked to Vicki.”

Jensen has absolutely no idea how to respond to that. “Do… what?” 

Misha moves his hand up Jensen’s leg, just an inch or so. Jensen could almost dismiss it as a twitch, a fidget, if not for the look of intent in Misha’s eyes. Jensen can’t look away as Misha repeats himself. “Danneel talked to Vicki.” He doesn’t elaborate further.

Jensen’s brain has still not quite caught up, distracted as it is by the hand on his leg and the look on Misha’s face. “About what?” he asks. 

Misha smiles. It’s a combination of kind and coy and something else behind his eyes. It takes a minute, but as soon as Jensen figures out what that something else is, everything falls into place like the last pieces of a year-long puzzle.

“Oh,” he says. Or at least thinks he says. At the very least, his mouth hangs open as he weighs the implication of everything that is happening in that moment.

He stops weighing anything the moment Misha leans in and puts his lips to Jensen’s.

Misha’s lips are soft, softer than they look, and light across his own, just barely grazing Jensen’s before pulling gently back.

“Is this… was that okay?” Misha asks, looking right at Jensen from only a few inches away.

“I think…” Jensen trails off. The only thought in his head is telling him to do that again. So he does, leaning forward and kissing Misha. The second kiss is longer, their lips lingering together until it’s Jensen’s turn to pull back. “Yeah,” he finishes, “that was okay.”

Misha doesn’t say anything in response, but he uncrosses his legs and scoots closer to Jensen, closing the space between them on the couch. Their knees bump together like they had earlier in the truck, and Jensen finds himself pushing back with his own leg. When he does, Misha’s grip on his lower thigh tightens just a little.

In one motion, Jensen angles himself to mirror Misha, turning his body fully toward him. Misha seems to take that as the invitation it is and he leans in again. Jensen meets his lips halfway, but Misha takes control of the kiss almost instantly. It starts as gentle as the first, a few feather-light brushes of his lips, but turns deeper when Misha presses against his mouth. The hand that isn’t on Jensen’s leg makes its way to the back of his head and holds him steady, while Misha’s tongue gently slides against the seam of Jensen’s lips. He opens his mouth just slightly and Misha flicks his tongue inside, tasting quickly then retreating. He moves his head to kiss the corner of Jensen’s mouth, and the sensation of stubble on his skin is very new but incredibly satisfying, like some itch he hadn’t known needed scratching.

Misha kisses a line from Jensen’s mouth to the tender patch of jawline right below his ear. He nips and laps at the skin there, and Jensen tilts his head to allow easier access. He closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the sensation of Misha’s mouth, barely aware of the small, soft noises he’s making until Misha whispers, “Do you like that?” huskily in his ear.

“Mmmmm,” is the only thing Jensen can say in response, but he moves his hand up to Misha’s shirt and grabs a fistful, pulling him in again. Their lips slot together and Jensen takes the opportunity to circle his own tongue around Misha’s mouth. Misha responds by pushing back, and they trade turns tasting each other until Jensen has to pull away to catch his breath. When he does, Misha invades his space, hands and mouth suddenly everywhere all at once.

Jensen would be overwhelmed if he wasn’t so turned on. Instead, he releases his grip on Misha’s shirt and runs his hand up and over his shoulder, thumbing at the soft curls behind his ear that he’d spent so long staring at earlier. Misha returns the gesture, running his thumb over Jensen’s mouth, a look of almost reverence in his eyes. 

“This is…” Jensen starts, then trails off.

“It is,” Misha answers. He stares at Jensen, then quirks one eyebrow as if he’s awaiting some kind of confirmation. 

When Jensen nods, Misha is quick to push him back into the couch and straddle his legs. Nestled together like that, Misha takes Jensen’s head gently in both of his hands and draws him in, kissing him again. It’s a long, slow, patient kiss. Jensen feels like he could memorize Misha’s mouth, the slide of his tongue, the way he stops every now and again for small breaths and sighs. Jensen slides his own hands up the back of Misha’s shirt, daring to press his palms into the firm muscles but careful to avoid too much pressure.

Misha feels his hesitance, because he whispers, “I won’t break.” The heat of the words against Jensen’s mouth light a fire in his belly, and he feels his cock twitch against the fly of his jeans. Misha grinds down against him as if proving a point, and Jensen gasps. 

At that noise, Misha leans back a little, pulling Jensen forward with him and then yanking at the back of his shirt. Jensen acquiesces, raising his own arms above his head as Misha pulls the fabric up and off, leaving him bare chested. Misha tosses the shirt to the side and snags Jensen’s lips with his own again, his hands pressing into Jensen’s shoulders.

Jensen moves his hands down to Misha’s hips and tucks his thumbs under his shirt, pressing tightly into the skin there. When he takes a moment to breathe, Jensen moves his head down to mouth against the vein in Misha’s neck, then runs his tongue from collarbone to earlobe. Misha makes a noise like a cross between a hum and a growl, so Jensen does it again, then once more. He smiles against Misha’s skin before running his hands further up Misha’s flank, rucking his shirt until Misha leans back and tugs it off himself. 

When they are both shirtless, they press against each other, skin-to-skin, and Jensen is not at all surprised by how warm Misha is in his lap. His cock thrums, and he thrusts up somehow at the exact moment that Misha pushes down. Sparks alight behind Jensen’s eyes, and he repeats the motion, seeking the wonderful friction. Misha seems more than happy to oblige, grinding down into him, his hips drawing small circles. They linger that way for long minutes, tongues sliding together, Misha’s fingers in the back of Jensen’s hair, Jensen’s palm on the small of Misha’s back.

Misha seems to sense when Jensen’s hard-on grows more urgent, because he presses a hand down, palming his cock through denim. Jensen grunts, and that’s enough approval for Misha, who draws his hands up to the button of his jeans and pops it open. He slides the zipper down deftly, then raises himself up on his knees, allowing Jensen room to slide his pants down. Jensen takes the cue, lifting his hips. It’s a struggle for a moment, tangled together as they are, but quickly enough his cock is free. Just as quickly, Misha takes it in his hand.

The first strokes are so good that Jensen feels like a teenager again, horny and ready to pop, but when his breathing becomes too unsteady, Misha settles into a slow, steady pace, loosening his grip. Jensen looks down, watching Misha’s hand on his cock. His hands are large but his fingers are nimble and Jensen is practically hypnotized watching his own cock disappear into Misha’s fist over and over. When the sight starts to overwhelm him, he relaxes and lets his head fall back against the couch, keeping his eyes open to watch Misha, who is watching him. Misha smiles – it’s such a sweet expression that Jensen can’t help but return it before he leans forward and catches Misha’s mouth again. It’s his turn to put his own hands on either side of Misha’s face, so he does, holding him there while he explores his mouth, Misha’s hand a perfect sensation on his cock.

It’s not long before he’s thrusting up into Misha’s hand, his hips setting the tempo while Misha follows. Jensen grunts, and when his head tilts back again, Misha slips out of his lap. 

He almost protests the absence, but there’s no time before Misha kneels in front of him and sinks his mouth down onto Jensen’s cock. 

The warm, wet heat surrounds him, enveloping him, and suddenly there’s no other sensation in the world. It’s just Misha’s mouth on him, then the perfect tightness when he hollows his cheeks and releases Jensen with a small pop. Misha looks up at him, and there it is - that _thing_ , the look that used to drive him so crazy.

Turns out, it still drives him crazy. Jensen reaches a hand out and places it gently on Misha’s cheek, who takes that as a signal to dive back down. While he works Jensen with his mouth, he uses a hand at the base of his cock, stroking up while sucking down. It’s maddening, the perfect coupling of sensations, and it takes everything Jensen has not to thrust up between those thick lips. He watches, wide-eyed and slack jawed, as his cock disappears into Misha’s mouth over and over again.

Then Misha pulls back. Jensen whines, but Misha moves his mouth down, nuzzling against his balls, his whiskers scratching deliciously against the bare skin of Jensen’s thighs. He continues to pump Jensen’s cock with his hand as he licks and sucks at his balls and nips at his exposed thighs. Jensen exhales quickly, and Misha looks up at him through half-lidded eyes. 

Maintaining eye contact, Misha flattens his tongue and licks his way up the shaft of Jensen’s cock, tracing every inch of skin before nestling his mouth over the head and sucking. He draws circles with his tongue, then lowers his head once more, taking as much of Jensen down as he can. This time, Jensen can’t resist the urge and he bucks up his hips. Misha takes it in stride, nodding as much as he can with a mouth full of Jensen’s cock, so he takes it as permission. Jensen puts a hand on either side of Misha’s face, holding him gently while he thrusts. 

When Misha adds his other hand, using one to fondle his balls and one to tighten around his shaft, Jensen feels the inevitable shift in his arousal and knows he’s very close. He tries to pull Misha’s head away, but Misha resists. 

“I’m gonna…” he warns.

Misha moans assent and sucks Jensen down. With just two more thrusts, Jensen is spilling into Misha’s mouth. 

There’s a post-orgasmic moment that Jensen doesn’t process, doesn’t see or feel anything as he floats around his own body. When he comes back to himself, Misha is still on the floor, but he’s turned and relaxed, leaning his shoulder against the cushion and his chin on Jensen’s knee.

Jensen doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what comes next. There are a thousand options on the tip of his tongue, but before he can sort through and pick one, Misha speaks.

“I think,” he says, one eyebrow raised, “that the coffee is ready.”

Jensen throws his head back and laughs, a loud, unabashed noise. “It can wait,” he answers.


End file.
